


You’re Cavendish

by Michael_Demos



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Attempted robbery, DEFINITELY not a date, M/M, Slight mention of slight injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28876914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michael_Demos/pseuds/Michael_Demos
Relationships: Balthazar Cavendish/Vinnie Dakota
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	You’re Cavendish

“Hey- hey Cavendish- look-“

Balthazar Cavendish glanced up from his meal. “Dakota, what are you doing?” He said with a sigh.

Vinnie Dakota grinned. “I’m balancing my chopsticks on my nose, what does it look like?”

The two were on what neither would admit was a date, at the new Chinese restaurant that had just opened in Danville- Wong Yu. It had been Dakota’s idea, and while Cavendish thought that while the restaurant was embarrassingly stereotyped, the food wasn’t bad.

Cavendish raised one perfectly trimmed eyebrow. “It looks like you’re acting ridiculous per usual.”

Dakota laughed, catching the chopsticks as they fell. “Come on,” he teased, “you know you love it.”

Cavendish _did_ secretly love his partner’s goofy nature; not that he’d say as much out loud. “I do not,” he retorted, turning his attention back to his- egg rolls? Pork rolls? Whatever they are, they were certainly not authentic Chinese- yet this dinner outing was pleasant enough.

Especially since Dakota was there.

“What I do love,” the older man continued pointedly, “is _not paying_ for every dinner.”

The man in the golden sunglasses froze. “Well,” he said eventually, “you know how it is, you leave your wallet in your other track suit enough times, and a fish in the backseat- actually, that’s a _very_ interesting story, did I tell you-“

“Dakota,” Cavendish said warningly.

“-and anyway, it’s in the van,” his friend finished hurriedly.

“Alright,” Cavendish said, sighing once more. He stood, brushing off his olive suit, and said, “you stay here. I’ll go to the van and get your wallet.”

Leaving Dakota behind to eat, the well-dressed man exited the restaurant. He walked across the street to their newly bought vehicle, a very used and faded greenish-gray van with scrapes along one side.

The scrapes had been acquired not even a week ago, when Dakota had decided to take Cavendish on a drive out of town. They’d run into the Murphy family on a camping trip, and had promptly woken up a particularly foul-tempered bear sleeping nearby. Apparently bears didn’t like motors.

Cavendish got to the van without incident, retrieving the wallet from the backseat (it smelled like sardines; Dakota had probably forgotten to take the fish that was used to pacify the bear out before it started to stink) then stepped out. He closed the door, just as Milo rolled by. The child seemed to be balancing on top of a flaming barrel. “Hello again, Murphy,” he called out.

“Hey there, Mr. Cavendish,” Milo answered as he passed.

Oh no.

As if on cue, the back door of the van snapped off, spilling Cavendish backwards onto the sidewalk. As luck would have it, or perhaps Murphy’s Law, Dakota’s wallet sailed out of his grip and flew into the alley a few feet away. Used to this by now, the man only heaved yet another sigh, rose to his feet, and went after the wallet.

* * *

Dakota was getting nervous, and the waiter was getting impatient.

Cavendish hadn’t been gone that long, sure, only about ten minutes, but Dakota knew his partner prided himself on punctuality. He should have been back with Dakota’s wallet in the first three minutes, and that was giving him extra time. Besides all that, the waiter that had appeared to take their payment was getting annoyed.

“Sir,” they began, “you really have to-“

“I know, I know,” Dakota interrupted, waving a hand with a nonchalant laugh. “We gotta pay, just give my partner a moment to get here.”

They waited another few minutes and the tension kept growing, and Dakota started fidgeting. “...Okay okay,” he finally said, getting up. “I’ll go get him and-“

“Sir,” the waiter said firmly, “I must insist that you pay for your meal-“

“Yeah, you said that,” Dakota replied. “Hey, why don’t you come with? Cavendish probably locked himself in the van; you can watch me rescue him!” Without waiting for an answer, the man strolled out the door. His calm manner threatened to give way any minute, but as he heard a resigned sigh followed by footsteps behind him, he couldn’t resist a grin.

They reached the van easily, but there was no sign of Cavendish anywhere. Dakota searched the van, then realized a door was missing. “Well that’s weird,” he commented. Only then did he notice the door lying on the sidewalk. “Huh. Milo must have stopped by.”

_“Sir-“_

“Hey, I know, okay?!” Dakota snapped, whirling around. Then he groaned. “I’m sorry, man, I’m just worried. He’s my best friend, ya know? He’s never late, and-“

A sudden sound from behind him caught his attention. He and the waiter cautiously peeked into the alley- and Dakota’s heart nearly stopped.

Two large men had cornered Cavendish against the altar end of the alley. Cavendish seemed fine, if a little bruised and tired, and for good reason, considering the three other thugs that were nursing various bruises.

Dakota saw red. He growled, sprinting forwards, and drove his shoulder into the ribs of the closest thug. “Get _away!”_

With one man knocked away, the other turned away from Cavendish in surprise, only to get hit by Dakota’s rather heavy fist. Maybe Dakota wasn’t as big as they were, but he was stocky, strong, and mad as hell.

The fight was rather short and ended up with a black eye for Dakota, the thugs tossing the wallet at them and running away, the waiter getting increasingly annoyed- and Cavendish slumped against the wall.

Dakota’s heart nearly stopped for the second time. (Seriously, should he see a doctor or something?) “Cavendish!!” He rushed over, dropping to his knees beside his friend. For a moment, the taller man was too still, frighteningly still, and Dakota was forcibly reminded that he had no time machine. “...Cavendish-?”

“I’m not dead,” came the irritated answer.

Dakota forced out a laugh, relieved. “Y-yeah, of course not, Cav, I was just- I mean you just fell down- took out three of them by _yourself-“_

Dakota shut up abruptly as Cavendish slapped a hand over his mouth.

“I said I’m not dead,” the man snapped, wincing as he sat up. “I’m just a bit bruised, there’s no need to worry.”

Dakota helped Cavendish to his feet, handing him his hat which had rolled a few feet away. “Well, I worried anyway, you know,” he replied.

Cavendish blinked. “Wh- you, worry about _me?_ Why?”

Dakota shrugged, a small, self-conscious smile appearing on his face. “You’re Cavendish.”

* * *

“Sir!!” The waiter crossed his arms. “You and your boyfriend still have to pay!”


End file.
